Voices
by merciki
Summary: Two voices. One hiding in the dark. The second shining in the light. Written for day 2 of round 8 of the farewell tour of PiP


"And just before I hand the mike over to the not-so-talented Finnick Odair, here is a little jewel I found the other day. Take a seat, grab a glass, close your eyes and enjoy, I give you Mr Bob Dylan, the one and only, live on a little scene somewhere in Europe. Enjoy and don't forget me tomorrow. I am Peeta Mellark, your host from 6 to 9pm on WKSM. Good night, folks."

With a flick of the wrist, the blond man signaled the technician to put on the old vinyl he had found in a thrift shop a few weeks ago. The scratching of the stylus on the old disk was unmistakable and before long, the recognizable notes of the intro started, spilling the song over waves across the country. A soft knock on the door brought Peeta out of his reverie. His friend and co-worker Finnick Odair entered the studio, a stack of papers in one hand, a steaming mug of tea in the other.

The bronze haired man drank copious amounts of herbal tea during his segment, and was known to be an encyclopedia where music was concerned. Finnick prided himself for playing every kind of music during his set, from the classical pieces he liked most to the latest group he had discovered. And he always had tons of anecdotes to tell his growing audience.

"Nice one, Peet." He grabbed his pair of headphones before making eye contact with the technician. "Cress, you hear me? We're all good then, you have the set list?"

Finnick looked at the blonde girl on the other side of the glass who nodded. "Great. Good show! Yeah, thanks!"

Taking his cue to leave, Peeta stretched his arms above his head, trying to relax his tired muscles. He was so intent during his three hours behind the mike, trying his best to convey his love for music to the listeners.

"Yeah, Dylan's always good. How's Annie?"

Annie was Finnick's longtime girlfriend, soon to be wife and mother of his children, whose morning sickness had been hard on her and Finnick's usually sunny disposition lately.

"Better, thanks for asking. You going to Bonnaroo this year? Effie's asking so she can have the passes ready."

"I think so, yes. I'll send her a mail tomorrow. Have a good one!"

With a finger raised, the usual "silence" sign in the radio cabin, Finnick adjusted his headphones.

"Thank you Peeta, nothing like a good old Bob to start an evening. It's 9pm, and here are the evening news, brought to you by the lovely Susan Paylor. I'll be right back". After a nod at Cressida, Finnick turned to Peeta again.

"You going home? You okay?"

"Na, not yet. Madge should be done packing her things, but just in case, I'll take the long road home. Who knows, I might find the next Mick Jagger in the subway?"

Finnick chuckled.

"Take care, bro. call if you need anything."

"Will do. Thanks, Finn".

Peeta grabbed his worn-out leather jacket from his chair, waved at Cressida who blew him a kiss, and quietly exited the room. The day had been rough and long, and he dreaded going back to his apartment. Madge must have left by now, out of the place they had shared for two years and on her way to California. They had parted on relatively good terms, her moving on the other side of the country ending a relationship that was slowly but surely falling apart. They had grown up in the same small town in the suburbs of Saint Paul, attending the same school, their parents in the same social circles. They were expected to end up together at some point, and they did, following their parents' wishes.

As good as it had felt for Peeta to be Madge's boyfriend, there was a little part of him, buried deep down inside that knew something was wrong, that insisted love was something more profound, more breathtaking, more vivid than what he had shared with Madge. And some time along the way of their five-year relationship, he had begun believing this voice.

And now here he was, Peeta James Mellark, 24 years old, the host of one of the most listened segments on one of the top radio stations in the country, living entirely on his own for the first time in years.

What he really dreaded was coming back to an empty apartment. When Madge was still there, even though they didn't share a bed anymore, there was a presence. A lingering smell in the living-room, from her favorite French perfume. A purse on the entry table, filled with useless tokens, flowers here and there, and two toothbrushes in the bathroom.

But this was over. Madge was on her way to a big company in Silicon Valley, to head their communications team. And he knew she would rock it. He told her so yesterday as they shared their last meal.

Peeta sighed, zipping up his leather jacket as the cold became more pronounced. He knew he had to go back at some point, but this didn't mean he couldn't enjoy a Sam Adams first, right?

Abernathy's was just the place he wanted to go to. He hailed a cab and jogged quickly into the warmth of the car.

The tavern was the right place to go to forget about his pathetic personal life, about the roads not taken some years ago, or what his future was looking like. Tonight was all about forgetting, and not thinking.

"Long time no see, kid. How're things' doing?" Haymitch Abernathy, the pub's owner stood before him, on the other side of the bar.

"Hanging on, Haymitch. Nothing new".

"Well, three Sams tell me otherwise." The older man might have looked like a drunk with his greasy blond hair and perpetually red face, but he was much more aware of what was going on around him than most people thought.

Peeta poured the remnants of his third – and last – beer in his glass before holding it in front of Haymitch.

"To celibacy" he toasted almost whispering. But it was just loud enough for the bartender to hear it. Haymitch took his own glass and poured himself a bit of beer, before toasting back.

"To new perspectives, new interests, new loves."

Both men took a sip of their drinks.

"Well, I don't have a remedy for broken hearts, kiddo. But at least you'll enjoy some good music tonight. It's Katniss last gig, and I think you'll enjoy it."

The problem was, Peeta wasn't even sure his heart was broken. He was sad, sure, but it was more about the fact of being alone in his apartment rather than not being with Madge. If that made any sense.

"Katniss? What is it?" He was sure he hadn't heard that band's name before, and just hoped it wasn't one of these garage-turned-boy-band crap.

"Don't worry. She's good. She covers the oldies but goodies, and has some songs of her own."

Peeta measured his options. Going back to his empty place, or staying in the warmth of the tavern, nursing his now-filled … of onion rings, and take a chance at listening to good music.

Music would always win.

"When does she start?" he asked, checking his watch.

" In about five minutes. Jo's checking on her."

Peeta nodded, and readied himself to listen to a few songs. He could always leave if he wasn't interested, and go back home, put a record on and start this new painting he had in mind.

He stayed throughout her whole gig.

There was something that drew his gaze to her as soon as she reached the scene, an old guitar in hand. True, she was beautiful, but not the kind of obvious beauty that belonged to a supermodel. Nothing felt artificial or wrong about her. Her beauty was in everything she was – from her dark hair, braided on the side of her neck, to her slender hands, lightly plucking the strings of her instrument. But what mesmerized Peeta was the purity of Katniss Everdeen's voice, immediately silencing the patrons in the bar who paused mid chatter to look at her. And then he saw the bright grey pupils that were her eyes.

He was pretty sure he could get lost for a lifetime in them, and never be bored, never care about looking at another pair.

She covered some standards he liked, and a few songs that he didn't recognize which he guessed were her own. She was pouring her heart into each and every piece she sang, taking the whole audience on a journey with her. He felt her melancholy when she covered "Blowin' in the wind", heard the hope in her voice with "Bridge over Troubled Waters". She finished her set with what Peeta thought was a song of her own, a song about the meadow and flowers that gave him a twinge of sadness and took him back to his childhood.

"Thank you! That's all for tonight guys, well, actually, that's all for now – maybe I will come back some day…"

The crowd both clapped and whistled at her, urging her to stay a while longer, as if afraid to break the magic too soon.

"She's good, right?"

Peeta jumped as Haymitch talked in his ear, having not realized the man had come nearby. He didn't take his eyes off the young blushing woman on the stage, trying to escape the crowd cheering her.

"She's something…"

"Too bad she won't be singing a lot anymore."

"What do you mean?" Stunned, Peeta turned to the old man, not believing his ears. How could this beautiful singer with an amazing voice stop her music?

"Well, everybody's got rent to pay, and groceries to buy. She found a job in another city that pays in dollars instead of applauses, and she'll be starting on Monday."

"You'll invite her to sing again, right?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Would you mind letting me know when it happens?" Peeta grabbed the pen and notebook in Haymitch's hand, and carefully wrote his number on a new page.

"Call me. I want to hear her again."

"Her voice is something, right?"

"Mesmerizing."

A recognizable chord tore Peeta's ears away from the old man, and he turned to see Katniss, back on her stool, focusing on her instrument, as the notes sounded in the quiet-again tavern.

He wondered briefly if such a young woman would make him forget the other versions of this song.

Her voice softly started by humming along to the music, and then she began to sing.

"How are you tonight, Peeta? Looking forward to the week end?"

"I'm good Cress. Mind if I take my laptop in?"

"Na, it's all good, don't worry. Took notes? Or are you stuck on a difficult level in Candy Crush?"

Peeta chuckled. He had officially given up on the game ages ago, but would find himself playing every now and then. The thing was strangely addictive.

"Nothing like that. Just need to check on something."

He took his laptop out of his messenger bag, and quickly opened it. He had spent a good part of the day looking for videos of Katniss Everdeen and trying to find who she was. He had found two profiles of her on Facebook: a private one that he guessed was personal, and a fan page with about 75 likes. He had quickly subscribed to the latter, hoping to be kept updated with her concerts, if she was ever going to sing again. He had found some very bad quality videos on YouTube, taken no doubt with a phone that was at least three phone-generations old, but the voice still could be heard.

"Peeta? You ready? In one minute, dear."

"On it, Cressie."

He quickly took his set list to look at the program he had established a few days ago, reviewing the songs, trying to put his mind at work instead of focusing on olive-skin, grey eyes, dark hair and that beautiful voice.

Cressida showed him the countdown with her hands, until…

"Good evening, folks. I'm Peeta Mellark, and we will be spending the next three hours together. It's 6pm on WKSM and I'm pretty sure the sun rise in one part of this big world. To start in a good mood, I give you some of our favorite… Enjoy!"

He heard the voice of Kazabian's singer in his headphones, and quickly looked more into Google. A link to a Tumblr blog attracted his interest. It happened to be the one of a seventeen year old girl named Primrose Everdeen, who if he understood correctly, appeared to be Katniss's sister. He bookmarked the blog, saving it for more exploration this evening.

The three hours passed quickly, between the songs, his comments, the ads in between, and his researches on the not-so-mysterious-anymore woman.

As his set drew to its end, and he was looking at the last song that was programmed, he took the mike.

"And before we part, my friends, let's go back to the glorious time when Simon was singing with Garfunkel. Remember? Yeah, the live in Central Park, I wish I had been there, you know? To feel this crowd beating as one… I saw something similar yesterday evening… I was grabbing a beer, and there was this singer who stopped the hearts of all the persons listening to her. I hope she'll sing again soon, and I'll be sure to tell you where to catch her. But for now, let's part with the Sound of Silence. Until next week, folks."

Peeta took his headphones off as soon as Cressida signaled him he was off air, and packed his laptop. He stopped in the main office, grabbing the papers stacked in his locker – programming for next week he had to review and finish preparing, mails received from happy or angry listeners, and the usual recommendations Effie Trinket, the Communications Director would send the staff on a daily-somehow-weekly basis.

Hastily shouldering his messenger bag, he retrieved his bike and headed into the night.

 _3 months later._

 **Sweetheart will be playing for a week starting tonight.**

Peeta stared at test on the screen of his phone for a solid good minute. He had no clue who sent it to him, no clue what it meant.

 **I think you got the wrong number,** Peeta wrote back.

The answer came quickly.

 **You're not radio-kid? It's Haymitch Abernathy.**

It suddenly clicked in Peeta's mind, and everything came back to him.

He never forgot the brown-braided singer from the bar, checking periodically on YouTube to catch new videos, looking at the lack of updates on Primrose Everdeen blog and Facebook page.

And here she would be, in three days, playing in the same old tavern, for a week.  
He wondered if the magic would still work. If she could still take the crowd's hearts in her hand and make them beat a little quicker.

The only way to find out was to go see her sing. He guessed he had a date with a couple of beers, then.

A date!

He already had a date… it took him some time to get over Madge, to find the will to go back into the dating world. He finally agreed to go out with Delly, a cheerful accountant at WKSM who had been hitting on him for nearly a year, just to see if he was ready. He couldn't say he was all that attracted to the busty blonde – truth be told, she reminded him too much of Madge – but after three months of loneliness, he caved in.

Now he was facing a choice, a simple one. Either go out with Delly or to Abernathy's.

Strangely enough, the choice was easy to make. Delly, he could always go out with another time. If they were meant to be, fate would throw her his way again. But he wasn't sure he wanted to miss Katniss singing even if it was only for a short time.

He grabbed his phone.

He was early for the concert, not really knowing at which hour she would start. He chose to sit at the end of the bar, in the dark, trying to keep as discreet as possible. Ever since his photo had been published in a music magazine along with Finnick's and the other radio hosts, he had been recognized quite a few times in public. He was aware of his good looks, having been gifted with unruly curly blonde hair and a pair of eyes as blue as the sea, as blue as his mother's. But the attention he had received was nothing in comparison to what Finnick had to go through – he was the real heartthrob of the station. It had become a common for Finn to receive lacy thongs from fans, along with love letters scented with perfume. As funny as they could sometimes be, Peeta was relieved he didn't receive such gifts.

The dark corner of the bar suited him perfectly. Hidden in the almost shadows, Peeta had a beautiful view of the stage, just far enough to take everything in, and not too close to draw attention to himself. He purposefully turned down the attempts of the barmaid at flirting with him, wanting to give his whole attention to the singer tonight. Haymitch, who was on the other side of the counter, waved as he passed.

After a few moments, the old man walked through the tables in front of the stage, until he reached the mike installed in front of a now familiar stool.

"I know you ain't here for the company. She's coming for you in five minutes." He looked from the left to the right, before continuing. "She must be outside, so if anybody knows someone who's somebody in the industry, let them know it's maybe one of the last times Katniss will be singing. In memory of someone she loved more than anything in this world. " He paused a few seconds, looking on his right.

"And here she comes. Sweetheart, stage's all yours!"

"Thanks, Haymitch."

Peeta was stunned as she took her place on the stool, holding her old guitar close to her body.

She had changed. She was thinner, and even from the back of the room where he was, he could see the dark circles under her grey eyes. She radiated fear, exhaustion, and even a glint of sadness. Peeta was wondering what could have happened to her, when she started strumming the guitar to a sad melody he recognized immediately.

She covered less songs than the last time he saw her, and none of them were her own. She went from the Beatles to Dylan, taking a curb to pay tribute to Redding, Armstrong and Dylan, until time forgot to move on, too taken by her voice.

Peeta would bet the birds stopped to listen to her when Katniss was singing. He was looking at her intently, trying to convey his strength to the lithe woman over there, far away, so close. He could have sworn she looked at him once or twice. But not just in passing, as a singer would do with the public. She would look through him, as if she were looking inside of him, at what made Peeta Peeta. It was frightening and addicting at the same time. That someone, with just a glimpse could uncover all his well-hidden secrets, all his pains, all his joys. But here she was, this little woman with gray eyes that seemed to spear through his heart.

And then the set was over. She fled from the stage like a bird, and this time did not come back.

The pain that gnawed at him at the thought that one day, this awesome woman could stop singing, could disappear from his life was completely unexpected.

He was a goner, he realized. Falling for a woman he didn't even know.

And he hadn't even talked to her.

"Peeta? A word if you might?"

Peeta jumped in his seat. He had been focused on his laptop all afternoon long, working on things he could add to his show to prevent monotony. He discovered soon enough that there needed to be additions to his show- his voice could only help so much. Even if the mails and letters were still coming, commenting on his honeyed tone and panty-drenching deep voice, he didn't want to only be a voice in the dark of the night.

After Annie gave birth to their son Nicholas, Finnick had asked to have a change in his schedule. They switched their times at the radio, Peeta taking the night shift with a bit too much giddiness. He never told anyone why he was way happier with this new program. And nobody noticed it had started at the same time Katniss Everdeen started to be known within the music industry.

Because who could have guessed he had anything to do with it? Sure, he mentioned her last round of gigs on the radio, attracting a lot more people in the tavern, as he witnessed himself. He went to all of them, always standing in the shadows of the dark end of the counter, watching her starting to look more alive, as more and more people came to her concerts. The last night she was in, Haymitch had to leave the doors and windows opened, as too many came to see Katniss. They remained all concert long in the pavement, staring through the opened frame, a small smile playing on their lips as Katniss took them into her world.

He learnt more about her, too, evening after evening, as Haymitch started to open up to him a bit about Katniss's past. He understood why she'd moved to another city, why she'd suddenly moved back, why her sister's blog hadn't been updated in ages, and sadly wouldn't be anymore. He understood how singing was her silver lining, one of the only things linking her to her past, and the ones she loved.

He understood where her sadness was coming from, taking the time to really listen to the words she was singing, when she finally started sharing her own songs again. He was moved to tears when he discovered the meaning behind the song about primroses and swore then and there that he would help her.

But if there was something that he had learnt in all his years at being a radio host, it was that nothing could come directly from him, or it would be labelled as favoritism, or rumors would start spreading that they were somehow linked. She was far too pure to be tampered with by the sharks in this industry.

That meant he just had to be smarter than them.

He started by creating new internet identities, on every social network that counted. It was easy enough, he just needed a new email. Soon, he became BakerBoyofD12, and started randomly following some of the accounts that Peeta Mellark already followed. Including his legit one. And someday, Peeta Mellark reblogged a tweet from BakerBoyofD12, who was showing a bad-resolution video of Katniss singing _Hallelujah_ – Leonard Cohen's original version.

From the moment Peeta retweeted the video he had himself taken on his iPad in one of Katniss's gigs, it went viral. And the name of Katniss Everdeen slowly but surely rose from the ashes of nowhereness.

More and more people were coming at her concerts, and soon, Abernathy's wasn't big enough. She was asked to appear on bigger stages, all through Minnesota, and as the videos became more numerous, after a few months, she started to be known in all the country, even interesting some labels.

She wisely chose to stay apart from the big record companies and signed with an independent one, keeping her freedom, and creating a beautiful album. Peeta was one of the first to play her single when it was released, and kept on playing it almost every night, telling the audience he remembered going at one of her concerts in an old tavern, and claiming he had a duty to help her as a fellow Minnesotan.

Her record wasn't a commercial success, but got great critical reviews, and one year later, she released another record, that not only pleased the critics but also the masses, earning her a spot in some of the talk-shows that mattered.

Success wasn't long to come after that, and now Katniss Everdeen was touted to become a big winner at the next Grammy Awards.

And through all this, Peeta had discreetly followed her progress as Peeta Mellark, Radio host, gaining more and more spotlight in the industry, and securing a contract with a major broadcaster, leaving St Paul for Los Angeles a few months ago.

But he made a point to always go to her concerts, whenever she was nearby, he did not hesitate to drive as far as it was taking to enjoy seeing her singing. His press badge almost always guaranteed him a backstage access, and he enjoyed watching her bloom as the years passed. They had exchanged greetings in passing, but he was sure Katniss never noticed him. Why would she? Press had linked her to a good number of popstars, actors, reality TV nobodies, but the only man she was always with was tall, dark-haired with grey eyes so more like hers.

He still couldn't help the twitch in his stomach each time he was near her, or couldn't forget the time they shook hands, and how it had felt good and right – and warm. Surprisingly warm. He did not expect such a small hand to bring him so much heat, and that it felt so damn good. He could have let his hand in hers for years. But she was quickly gone with Tall-and-Broody, to another journalist, another event, another town.

"Peeta? You here with me?"

The voice brought him back from his Katniss- induced dream-state, and he turned to face Octavia, the head of Communications for the radio.

"Yeah, sorry O, I was away."

"I noticed. So, I guessed you didn't hear what I just asked you?"

"Hum, no?" he smiled weakly, trying very hard to remember the words he didn't hear.

"Well, it's nothing, really. I was just asked if you'd like to be a presenter at the Grammys. Some technical award, nothing fancy. Not even sure you'll be on TV."

"What? Are you serious? Of course I'd want that! Why did they think about me?"

"I dunno. Maybe has something to do with you being the most listened to on the West Coast. Or the show every star wants to go."

"Well, not every star, you know that."

"So, shall I call them back and tell them you agree?"

"Damn straight!"

"Bye Peeta! Have a great show!"

He would. He was going to the Grammys and not as a journalist, kept away from the singers. He would be a presenter. Maybe he would have his chance at meeting Katniss. Finally.

He didn't dare think about more.

He was going to the Grammys.

It wasn't at all what he expected. Peeta remembered the previous years when he was just a journalist in the long line along the red carpet, trying to get an interview of the stars that were passing by.

Now he was expected for rehearsals, having to memorize dull sentences to present the award to whomever would win it. He didn't have the slightest problem remembering the lines, and craved for the need to change them, make them more appealing to the public. It was, after all, his job to charm an audience with words, to have it wrapped around his soft tone. But no, he was to stick to the very precise choreography established by who-knew-who, and follow the rules. He was to present the award alone, and unfortunately, it wasn't in any category Katniss was nominated.

"That's all good, Mr Mellark. We'll see you for the show." The attendant, a woman with pink hair and a tattoo of a flower on her neck, accompanied him out of the stage, as a band was setting up some instruments.

"Can I stay to watch the rehearsals?"

"Sure, as long as you don't disturb anything. You got your pass, right?"

He showed the plastic card he had shoved under his shirt, and at the nod of the young woman, he retreated carefully to the rows of seats directly in front of the stage. None of them had names yet, and he wondered who, among the nominees would be seated here tomorrow night.

Taking his phone from his pocket, he started checking his mails. Confirmation of the interviewee that was coming tonight for the show, reminding him he had to prepare some questions, random spams, and a mail from his brother were all that needed his attention.

Until he heard the name he's been craving for.

"Katniss, you're ready for your song?"

And there she was, mike in hand, wearing a pair of black jeans and a simple top. The typical girl next door, with no make-up on, just these long hair in her signature side braid She took his breath away again, just like any other time he saw her. And she hadn't even started to sing.

"My, my, if it isn't Peeta Mellark." A familiar high perched voice tore him out of his blatant staring.

He let his eyes leave the girl on stage, until they fell on the woman standing next to his seat. Bright pink designer clothes, curly blond hair perfectly in place, and enough make up to open a full store.

"Effie? What are you doing here?" Peeta was quickly thrown into a bear hug by the woman, his formal co-worker at the radio station.

"My, but I'm with my client, of course!"

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting you had a change of career. Having fun with this new job?"

"It's different really, but everybody needs to try some time."

"So who is the lucky guy?"

"Well, don't you know, Peeta? It's her, of course."

Effie turned her head towards the stage, and waved at Katniss who was staring at the two of them, surprise clearly etched on her face. Suddenly, her gaze moved a little until her eyes fell into Peeta's.

Time seemed to stop completely, as grey met blue. He didn't know what she could read in his eyes, but he was certain he could decipher surprise, joy, and – was that a sparkle? – in hers He swore right here, right then, that if there was a moment in his life he could freeze and live in forever that would be now.

As quickly as she looked at him, she turned back towards her musicians, and soon, the notes of a familiar song came through the speakers. She chose to rehearse a ballad that had been one of her first hits, and her voice soon took him and all the people around him away, walking through a meadow.

"You know, Peeta dear, I've always wondered why you didn't invite Katniss to your show."

"What?" So many thoughts came through Peeta's mind as he weighed in what Effie has just said. He had tried to invite her so many times, but her management never accepted the invitation.

"I tried, but the answer was always the same 'She won't come'. So after a while I gave up, you know."

"Oh, dear, but who did you talk to? Katniss doesn't stop gushing about your show, and how she would like to be on!"

"Well, she can come whenever she wants, as many times as she wants."

"I'll come back to you on that. And who told you she didn't want to come? You have a name?"

"I don't remember, it was some guy."

"Must be Gale. He was handling Katniss's PR until I took over. You still have the same cell?"

"Cell?"

"Phone number, dear." Effie sounded annoyed, now, he didn't know whether it was at his lack of understanding or at the fact that there has been a miscommunication in her perfectly oiled schedule.

"Yeah, still the same. And really, call me anytime, Effie. Katniss can come whenever she wants."

"I'll tell her. Well, I better get going, I have a few things to sort here before we come back tonight. You wouldn't believe they don't have sparkling fresh water! I have to do anything myself."

"Katniss asks for such things?" Peeta was really surprised. Anything he had seen about this woman told him she was a simple girl, without any quirks he knew of. He had to be careful when, because now he could say when, she would come to his show.

"Not Katniss, don't be foolish. She drinks whatever is provided. No, it's for me. How do you think I maintain such a youthful and peachy complexion?"

Without another word, she left, waving at Katniss still on stage, but her song clearly finished. Once more, Peeta was caught by her piercing grey eyes, holding onto her gaze like a life line.

She retreated backstage, as another singer came on to rehearse his song. But Peeta had no interest of staying anymore. The day was already too full for him. Katniss wanted to come to his show, wanted to be invited by him. He couldn't stop blaming himself for not trying to contact her more persistently, to get past this Gale guy. How could he have given up so easily?

He wasn't even out of the Staples Center when his phone rang, an unknown number appearing on the screen. Intrigued, he picked it up.

"Peeta."

"Peeta Mellark?"

"Himself. Who's calling?"

"It's Katniss. Katniss Everdeen."

Oh.

She was calling him. Like right now. _Don't panic, Peeta_ , he thought.

"Oh! Hi! Wow, I didn't expect this!"

"Yeah, Effie told me. Sorry about that, Gale is always overprotective."

"Gale? Ah yes, the guy on the phone."

"Effie told me you wanted me on your show?"

"Who wouldn't want you, Katniss?You're the best singer I know."

"Oh."

And with that single "oh", Peeta knew he said something wrong. He, the talented radio host, praised for his gift with words and golden tongue, hadn't been able to say the right thing the only time it mattered.

"God that came out wrong. I would love to have you Katniss, any day, any time you want. I want to learn about you, why you sing, what makes you laugh, where you find your inspiration. I want to find out who's hiding behind the singer. I want to know the real Katniss." The one I love, he added, in his head. "If you'll allow me."

"I'll allow it. Can I call you later? To give you a date?"

"Anytime. Thank you, Katniss."

Peeta was smiling so hard it actually hurt. But he didn't care at all. Life was beautiful.

He came back a few hours later, his suit on, hair combed, badge on chest. He was quickly taken to the backstage zone where the presenters were waiting until the beginning of the show. Then, they would be displayed in strategic zones in the audience, changing seats as other presenters went on stage so as to avoid any empty seats which would look bad on television.

Peeta tried to get glimpses of Katniss, but he couldn't spot her through the crowd of people swarming backstage. He heard the countdown to the beginning of the ceremony, and readied himself. He was to stay backstage until his presentation was done, as he was the second one to give an award away.

He really hoped he could talk to Katniss before the end of the show, to be able to settle a date for her to come to his show, finally. And maybe talk to her a bit longer after they were done, maybe go for a coffee, maybe grab her hand.

He shook his head – no need to get ahead of himself. Most certainly, Katniss would come, maybe perform one song if they were lucky, and then leave with Tall-and-Broody in the night. He most surely was the one holding her hand, making her laugh. He had seen their interactions more than once. But as long as Katniss was happy, he guessed it was alright.

"Mr Mellark? You're ready? We'll go when the scene turns dark and Caesar will come to you. Just like in rehearsals, okay?"

"Sounds good."

He felt butterflies the way he did anytime before talking in public. He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and let the assistant guide him towards the glass console.

Quickly, the host came towards him, asking for the nominees in the Best Contemporary Instrumental Album, and Peeta recited the phrases he had learned a few hours ago.

He opened the envelope and called the winner, under a wave of applause, Peeta's included. He was quite happy for the winner, and was watching him leave his seat and head towards the stage, when he caught by the sight of a dark braid. Here she was, Katniss Everdeen. He didn't expect her to come wearing designer's clothes, but he sure as hell wasn't expecting that. She was wearing a simple, little black dress with short sleeves, a square neckline, and Peeta was sure she was wearing black leather boots with them. Because he already saw this outfit, the first time he came to see her sing. Was this a coincidence? Could it be one? He rose his eyes from her dress and fell into hers, again. She'd been looking at him, with a strange longing with her eyes.

Was it possible that she had noticed him too?

The award winner finally came to the stage, blocking Katniss from Peeta, and he quickly gave him the award, before waiting until the speech was done. He looked through the crowd, but Katniss was gone, replaced by some woman, surely a fill-in.

Peeta was escorted off-stage, and asked to go to his seat in the audience, to enjoy the show, before coming back to the after party, and to please not to lose his badge or give it to some overzealous fan outside. As if there was a chance he would missed the party, and any chance of seeing Katniss once more.

It wasn't until twenty minutes later that he saw her. She was radiant on stage, after winning an award for best song of the year for "Rue's lullaby", a lovely ballad that brought tears to his eyes if he wasn't careful.

As the stage was being filled with her musicians, she grabbed the mike, and looked at the audience in front of her, as if searching for someone.

"I thought that instead of this song, I would share something with you. Something new. A song I wrote a few years ago, hoping. Here's to hope. And to dreams that could come true."

The shouts of the crowd covered the first notes of the melody on the unplugged guitar while Katniss brought a stool to where she was previously standing, mimicking her musician. She closed her eyes, listening to the music, until her voice finally filled the Staples Center.

 _The first step… will he dare take this first step,_

 _Take these five feet between us - or should I be afraid,_

 _That the light he radiates is for someone else?_

 _The first step… Should I be the one reaching for his hand?_

 _I want so badly to feel his warmth again,_

 _I want to drown in these blue eyes and then …._

 _Fly away from these crowds,_

 _Fly away, I'll protect you from the world,_

 _Fly away, and let me drown_

 _In your warm embrace, let me, let me, let's cuddle_

 _The first words- Maybe you'll be the one to tell_

 _The first words, from your lips falling on the waves,_

 _Maybe they could be mine,_

 _To be loved and to shine._

 _In your warm embrace you'll take me away,_

 _Take me to the blue, I never wanted the grey,_

 _let me curl in your arms, and we will fly away,_

 _With me will you stay?_

 _If only I would dare_

 _If only he could care,_

 _to take that first step_

 _Or maybe hold on to my hand,_

 _A little longer, I want to be warmer…_

She looked at him all through the song. Her piercing eyes found him in the audience and never left, carrying her message as clearly as her words. She went off the stage under the clamors of the crowd, and he started fidgeting in his seat. He couldn't wait for the show to be over.

He had to wait a solid two hours and forty two minutes before facing her again, at the after-party set next to the Staples Center. She made a quiet entrance, surrounded by Effie and this guy he guessed was Gale, did the usual round of greetings requested by either politeness or her record company before whispering to both her companions, leaving her alone. He could see her from afar, on the small balcony he found himself, as she looked through the crowd, stopping at each blonde haired head she was seeing.

He remembered the lyrics from her song. They were engraved in his mind now.

He made his way down the staircase, dodging the persons climbing to get a better view at the upcoming fireworks, walking against the current of the crowd reaching for the windows, or the doors to take in the show that would take place in a minute.

Peeta could only see her. He noticed the precise moment she spotted him, and he felt Katniss's eyes on him directly, as a smile lightened her already gorgeous face. She was still wearing the little black dress she wore at the Grammies, and a worn-out brown leather jacket that was a size too big.

He stopped in front of her, at was he guessed were five feet away from her.

He had to dare. To take a risk. To risk everything in the next twenty seconds.

If only he knew what to say.

"Do I radiate light?" he heard himself ask.

"More than you could possibly know. You're like a beacon in the dark corner of a bar, reaching out for me."

He held out his hand. She did not hesitate grabbing it in her own, tiny one.

Peeta looked at Katniss, a huge smile on his face.

These twenty seconds were better than anything he could have possibly imagined.

"October 13th. A Tuesday. You'll come to my show?"

"It's a date."

He took her in with his eyes, wanting to ask for more, but not knowing how to do it.

"So we have our first date, real or not real?"

She looked at him straight in his eyes, so seriously that for a moment he thought he had crossed a line. Then she smiled, and she was no longer pretty nor beautiful, but as radiant as the sun.

"Real."

* * *

I want to sincerely thank Tanb for her beta skills, her kindness and her friendship. She made this story way better by her input, thank you so much.

And this story is for two dear friends, K&M, who are a daily support in my writing. Thank you, ladies.

On another note, if this story is to your liking, please show it by hitting one of the buttons below.

I could have more to share if there is an interest.


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